


Unknown Intentions

by StarlingHawke (Bowm8935)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, I will be updating this as each chapter drops most likely so please please please check, M/M, Multi, Self-Harm, Swearing, Vomit, shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/StarlingHawke
Summary: He's been looking for someone to infiltrate the RFA. After three failed attempts to find the perfect person, he decides it's time to take matters into his own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

The putrid smell of vomit invades his nostrils as he steps out into the bland hallway from his workroom, the whirring of his computers silenced as the door clicks shut behind him. Stomach turning, he scrunches his nose and brings up a hand to cover his own mouth as he makes a dash for the bathing room to escape the odor. One would think that after so many years in service, he would have grown used to this occurrence but choosing not to socialize with the other believers keeps him from developing a tolerance. No doubt another pitiful initiate was responsible, unable to stomach the elixir administered directly after the purification process. It isn’t an uncommon reaction, per se, but neither is it one he is willing to overlook; in his eyes, anyone so weak does not deserve to be admitted into the paradise of Magenta.

Alas, it is not his job to deem who is and who isn’t worthy.

With a towel wrapped around his waist and Mint Eye tattoo proudly on display, he enters the shared showers, ignoring the other occupants currently cleaning up. It is not his business nor his desire to observe or engage any of them, whether in here or elsewhere in the building. Ah, the stall he uses is open; excellent, his last warning must have been heeded.

He doesn’t like to share his things.

The warmth of a hand lands on his arm unexpectedly but before the fingers can curl around his bicep he yanks it away, whipping around with a snarl and sharp words on the tip of his well-practiced tongue. It’s one of the believers he loathes in particular; the girl with long brown hair and golden eyes. What was her name..? No matter, names don’t mean anything here and no one but the Savior is allowed to touch him.

Staring straight forward with empty eyes, her face is set in a blank expression. “I just wanted to say thank you for bringing me to Magenta,” she says in a monotone, bowing stiffly at her waist. She’s naked, just like most everyone in here but he doesn’t stare. No, instead he averts his eyes. Not for her sake but for his own. Sex isn’t discouraged here as long as it doesn’t become a nuisance or distraction and feelings aren’t involved. Disciples are free to fuck whomever they please if they keep to those rules. But he’s not interested in a romp with her, or any other woman, for that matter; while the idea of it isn’t bothersome, being faced with an unclothed female body repulse him. Maybe that makes him gay or maybe there’s some other reason, an underlying issue that makes him unwilling to be vulnerable with them.

He doesn’t care.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t fucking touch me, got it?” he growls, turning away before she has a chance to respond. He quickly stomps to his shower and yanks the curtain shut, blocking out the sight of her. Just her very existence infuriates him; the living embodiment of his mistakes, a visual reminder of the first time he initiated his plan and how it flopped terribly. All he had to do was find someone, _one person,_ to infiltrate the RFA and bring them down from the inside. Yet of his three attempts, not a single one of them succeeded.

Hours spent of research, of sifting through the multitudes in Seoul to find the perfect person to carry out this sacred duty. A list, narrowed down to three young women, all of them from out of town and alone. Susceptible. Easy targets.

All failures.

The brunette had spooked the instant he’d asked her to help return a phone, quickly closing out of the app to call the authorities. Of course he couldn’t allow that, but listening to her terrified report as he pretended to be a concerned cop was rather amusing. She blindly followed his instructions to a place where he easily scooped her up and brought her back with him to be cleansed. The Savior wasn’t pleased in any manner but she pardoned him out of the goodness of her heart and gave him another chance. “Sometimes we have to make mistakes in order to learn,” she’d wisely said to him before sending them off to toss the girl in the basement cells.

His next attempt managed to go better, the concerned but suspicious blonde agreeing hesitantly to see if she could reach the owner of the device. He could tell when she arrived that she was put at ease by the general atmosphere in the building; upper class, safe area. But when he pushed her to enter a number on the keypad, she drew the line. Her vague answers about the existence of it turned into flat-out lying as she started to scamper back toward the elevator. That didn’t quite go her way and he had laughed, declaring her to be his new assistant.

The Savior disagreed. Less patient this time, she denied him having a helper and instead took her to be cultivated at her side. It’s been a while since he’d last seen her.

The third and most recent had proved to be the most entertaining… and the most frustrating. He’d underestimated her desperation and flirtiness despite the responses dripping with both. His usual ruse of pretending to be leaving an apartment was seen straight through as she immediately started throwing herself at him, trying to flatter him with compliments about how clever he was for coming up with such a creative way to meet her. Yeah, no. She was thrown into the induction chamber so fast it made his own head spin as he walked away without a second glance.

The water heats slowly when he flips it on, the cold sending shocks through his body and energizing him. The temperature is always lukewarm for him; he doesn’t like the relaxation and mind fog that can come with warmth. Taking a handful of the stock shampoo they use - minimalist style, because one doesn’t need any fancy soaps when one’s already in paradise - he scrubs aggressively at his scalp, bitten fingernails aggravating past scratches. Combined with the burning sensation of the lather sinking into the scabs, it serves to sharpen his senses and his streamline his thoughts. There has to be another way to go about this, something he’s missing. A reason he’s failing. This is the last chance before the Savior punishes _him,_ and he’s really not inclined to going through another cleansing. He’s scoured all of the data, ran simulation after simulation but humanity is hard to predict at best. It’s difficult and nerve-wracking to leave the success of his plans in the hands of someone else, someone he can’t control. Maybe his failure is for the better…?

No! What is he thinking?

Jerking down on the lever in front of him, he hisses in pleasure when the water turns scalding, hot enough to cause the slightest bit of pain but not enough to leave him burned. If the lesser pain won’t help him function better, than he’ll increase it. Dancing on the edge of self-harm that won’t interfere with his day-to-day activity is his normal; pain reminds him why he’s doing what he’s doing. Most disciples carry out mundane tasks, helping out with initiates or cleaning up vomit. The lucky ones go out to recruit. But not him, no. He has the important job of security, keeping Mint Eye safe as well as hacking their enemies to trigger their self-demise. At first it was only surveillance; watch them, commit their habits to memory, learn to think like them. Now he gets to be the one to plot their downfall and put his arch nemesis in place.

Revenge. It’s the best motivator out there for him. Better than paradise, his medicine, even his Savior. After everything that happened, that culminated to bring him to this point he would give _anything_ to be about to deliver it personally. He wants to be the singular reason that his enemy’s life falls to pieces.

...wait.

Yes, that’s it. That’s a good idea.

Excitement thrums through his veins like fire and he shuts off the water, grabbing his towel to wipe himself dry. Not bothering to cover himself he bolts out of the stall, all but running in the direction of his room.

This needs to be well-thought out. He needs a very solid, foolproof plan with very little chance of failure if he wants the Savior to approve it. It will require a replacement for him - trained by himself to make sure they can sufficiently do what’s needed - months of preparation and god, it will be agonizing, painful to work with someone else in such close proximity but the reward… Ah, yes, that will be worth it in the end. The sweet, sweet taste of victory as he watches that wretched excuse for a human being fall to his knees before him, begging for him to end his life.

With a smirk curling on the edges of his lips, he throws open the door to the workroom. A disguise is needed and an alias, built from the ground; customized and believable. One that his arch nemesis can’t discern as fake.

After all, it’s about time he joins the RFA.


	2. Chapter 2

Setting up his new life is easy. Jinsoo Park, 22, an abandoned baby raised in an orphanage. Hair: Dark purple. Eyes: Green. Student of the Korean National University of Arts. Major: Painting. Part-time job at locally owned restaurant Gim Hoejang. Lives in school dorms. Diabetic. A quiet loner.

 _Living_ it is a completely different story. The Savior insisted that he have a semester under his belt as Jinsoo; an entire semester of going to school, studying, making ‘friends’ and working. Had anyone else suggested it, he would’ve punched them and told them they were fucking stupid for thinking he wanted to wait that long to exact revenge. But it had been her, the one who had rescued him and shown him paradise. So he grudgingly did as he was told, surprised and somewhat guilty when he found a small amount of pleasure in the monotony of the day-to-day life.

The hardest part is the withdrawal from the drugs.

Oh, they hadn’t made him stop completely; no, he was _saved_ , a member of paradise. They’d never take the nectar of truth from him entirely. But the amount he can take has been cut drastically since he has to play the part of being diabetic. His once-a-day dose is shifted to two different shots; one in the morning, one at night. The needles are different sizes, the bottles smaller and he has to ration it to make it last. Had he been given time to slowly lower himself to the lesser dose, to acclimate to the changes, perhaps he wouldn’t have to endure the headaches, the shaking, the rapid mood swings. Some days he can’t handle it, so he takes a full dose and then pays for it later in the month when he runs out completely. Days worth of calling into work, curled in a ball in the small nest he’s made in the corner of his bedroom (he doesn’t sleep in a bed, no - the floor is what he’s used to and it’s what he prefers), crying and screaming and most likely scaring the neighbors.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if people have him pegged as a drug addict around campus, but then again, he really doesn’t give two shits about what any of them think. Maybe the Savior thought he was going to adopt a completely different persona; perhaps one of a kind, sweet young man? If so, she was dead fucking wrong. It doesn’t matter if he is himself or if he is Jinsoo, he’s still the same bitter, sarcastic, blunt asshole. It comes as a surprise when he makes friends, but ends up with three; Jisung, Yuna and Sejun. All of them follow him around like dogs on a leash. Fucking pathetic in his opinion, but they at least make him laugh and like to commiserate on the terrible state of the world. Maybe he’ll invite them to paradise when this charade is all over. Depends on his mood.

“Does it hurt?” Sejun asks, lounging around in a chair in the employee break room one night when they’re at work. Jinsoo’s not sure if it’s providence or crappy luck that he’d ended up becoming friends with someone who both works and goes to school at the same places as him.

“No, it feels like a unicorn’s kiss,” he mutters, carefully aligning the needle so that it'll hit the correct vein in his arm. He needs to be precise about it with such a small needle, lest he miss. It's just another pain-in-the-ass on the long list of pain-in-the-ass things caused by this masquerade. It slips smoothly through the flesh, a small stinging sensation from the needle a prelude to the fire burning through his veins as the drug enters his system. Then he pulls the needle out, cleans the area with an antiseptic wipe and disposed of it all. “Of course it hurts, you fucking jackass. I'm shoving a goddamn needle into my skin.”

“Ah. Right.” Looking adequately chagrined, Sejun falls silent, twirling a pencil in his fingers. It's one of the only two things Jinsoo thinks he's good at. The other one is asking idiotic questions. “Don't diabetics usually poke their stomach, though?”

An unexpectedly good question that would've thrown Jinsoo off had he not done the proper research. Only a doctor or a nurse could call him out on this properly.

“Usually, yeah. That or the thigh. But I chose my arm. What of it?” he challenges, narrowing his eyes at the rapidly shrinking man across from him. The ability to make others shit their pants is a skill he wouldn't trade for anything. It's come in handy so many times, both inside Mint Eye and out here in the hellish city of Seoul. Most people just choose to avoid him, a decision he's more than fine with. The rest he can generally get off his case quickly with a few specific looks.

“Nothing. Was just wonderin’.” A pause, then he seems to find the balls to speak up again. “Aren’t you worried that people will think you're, you know, a drug addict?”

“Sejun, you idiot, just how many people do you think see me give myself my insulin shot?” Rolling his eyes, Jinsoo leans back and places his legs on the table, picking at his chipped black nail polish. “It’s not like I whip out a fucking syringe at school and poke myself while waving hello to the assholes who walk by me.”

“Oh. Right.”

Idiots. They’re everywhere. Most people around him seem to be. Thank the Savior that she saved him from dealing with anyone she doesn’t deem worthy for paradise. Living in a world like this full-time, with no other choice? No, thank you. He’s perfectly content being secluded from the masses, even those within Magenta. No one but the Savior needs to be in his life. Things like friendship, romance, love? Nah, those are for pathetic twerps who cling to others to find strength. Jinsoo doesn’t need anyone, not even these ‘friends’ he has now. The only person who has his trust is her, and everyone else can rot in hell as far as he’s concerned.

The effects of the drug come quick, though not as strong as he’d like. There’s set times he takes it every day, but he can tell without a clock when that time is approaching. He becomes less numb, useless emotions like _guilt_ or _loneliness_ or _regret_ start to creep in and make him weak. Weakness is something he cannot afford to allow to take root in any way, shape or form. The feeling starts from his heart and spreads through his body, the sweet, sweet release from any unwanted emotion as delicious as a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Jinsoo’s wondered on occasion if it turns him into something comparable to a psychopath. Unlikely, since he still feels anger, but part of him hopes so because then at least he’s truly the devil everyone always considered him to be.

The plain black smartphone lying on the table buzzes, the screen lighting up with the message “One (1) Notification from ChatWithPrettyBoys”. It’s a clever disguise, he has to admit, one befitting the genius of his archnemesis. No one from the outside would ever consider it to be more than perhaps an app for those desperate to find dates or maybe just get laid. Sejun’s eyes bulge when he reads it, his mouth dropping open as Jinsoo swipes it toward him, unlocking it with ease. There’s no need for him to acknowledge that dumbstruck look on his friend’s face; the question will come soon enough on it’s own.

It's just a quick touch to the app’s icon and one passcode before he’s in the chat room, rolling his eyes when he sees it’s just the gamer and the actor. Well, it could be worse. _He_ could be online right now, making his stupid jokes and sending his fucking dumbass memes, carefree and guiltless about how he ruined Jinsoo’s life. At least the blond one is easy to mess with, something he picked up on from monitoring the group before now.

 

> Yoosung★: ugh I can’t believe I fell for it again  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  ZEN: lololol  
>  ZEN: You always fall for Seven’s pranks.  
>  ZEN: Jinsoo! Hey dude, how’s it going?  
>  Yoosung★: Jinsoo!  
>  Yoosung★: Have you eaten yet tonight?  
>  Jinsoo: ...you guys are way too excited.  
>  ZEN:   
>  ZEN: Sorry, it’s not often we get this kind of excitement lolol  
>  ZEN: Though it would’ve been more fun if you’d been a girl  
>  Yoosung★: Ooooh, a girl!?  
>  Yoosung★: Then I could’ve gotten a girlfriend!  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  Jinsoo: yeah, sorry to disappoint lol but I’m all man

“So, uh… ‘chat with pretty boys’, huh?”

Jinsoo sighs. There’s the question he’s been waiting for. He doesn’t bother to look up from the screen as he addresses Sejun at the same time as responding in the chat. “Yeah. What about it?”

The sound of Sejun clearing his throat awkwardly makes his lips twitch in amusement. Really, it’s not that hard to figure this shit out. It’s not like he hides it or anything.

“Are you, um. Are you gay?”

“What the fuck do you think, genius?”

 

> Yoosung★: so what are you up to?  
>  Yoosung★: I’m taking a break from LOLOL before the guild goes into a raid!  
>  Jinsoo: how thrilling  
>  Yoosung★: I know!  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  Yoosung★: There’s some really good gear in there, hope I can get it!!!  
>  ZEN: lololol  
>  ZEN: I don’t think he cares, Yoosung.  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  Yoosung★: **What!?**  
>  Jinsoo: not really lol  
>  Jinsoo: i’m just sitting at work, bored  
>  Jinsoo: saw you two losers on and thought i’d come say hi

“I-I-I… I didn’t know, I’m sorry if I offended you…” The rapid way which Sejun backpedals is incredibly amusing, actually drawing Jinsoo’s attention away from the phone for a moment to look at him with a bored expression. He’s cowering, almost like he expects Jinsoo to be extremely pissed about the whole ordeal. Pfft. As if he really fucking cares.

“Just shut the fuck up, man. I don’t care. All I want is a quick fuck and I don’t give a shit what gender it’s with.” Actually, that’s not a bad idea, now that he’s said it. It never interested him in Mint Eye and he’s not necessarily overflowing with desire for it now, but it’d pass the time. Plus if he could find someone with no strings attached, maybe he could get by without ever having to see their stupid face again. Ideal. Huh. He’ll have to think on that more.

Sejun slumps over the table, relief crossing his face. “Oh, okay. That’s cool, I get that. Relationships never seemed your style.”

Jinsoo snorts. “Figure that one out on your own, did ya?”

 

> ZEN: Losers!?  
>  ZEN: That description might fit Yoosung but not me lolol  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  ZEN: I am a successful and incredibly handsome man, thank you.  
>  ZEN: Need some proof?  
>  Jinsoo: not really  
>  ZEN:  
> 
> 
> Jinsoo: …

There’s no denying Zen’s attractive, but the way he constantly pedals it throughout the chat room is nothing short of annoying. Maybe he could convince him to have a quick fuck… except that Zen’s obviously painfully straight. Although some of the things he’s said toward Yoosung in the past are questionable… maybe he’s just suppressing his interest in men for whatever reason. Not that Jinsoo really has any interest in it.

> Jinsoo: hey zen  
>  ZEN: Yeah?  
>  Jinsoo: didn’t you once say that yoosung is your type?  
>  Yoosung★: ???????  
>  ZEN: lololol  
>  ZEN: Yeah, if he were a girl he’d be.  
>  Yoosung★: R-really?  
>  Yoosung★:   
>  Jinsoo: jfc just kiss already  
>  ZEN:   
>  Yoosung★:   
>  ZEN:   
>  Yoosung★: I-I have to go.  
>  [Yoosung★ has left the chat room.]  
>  Jinsoo: lol  
>  Jinsoo: that was priceless  
>  ZEN: I uh, have to go too;;;  
>  ZEN: Have a good day, Jinsoo.  
>  [ZEN has left the chat room.]

With a smirk, Jinsoo shoves the phone in his pocket and stretches. “Well. Gonna get back to work, I think.” The beanie he’s wearing feels like it’s slipping off his head, so he tugs it back into place. He hasn’t dyed his hair recently and the natural red of his roots are a stark contrast to the purple he keeps it for the sake of his disguise. A hat is basically essential to make sure no one knows what his real hair color is.

Sejun groans and stands as well. “You’re so lucky you don’t have to wear this fucking uniform,” he mutters, brushing a hand over the dark red polo and black dress pants most employees are required to wear. “I dunno how you got out of it, but I’m jealous.”

“Told you, I’m in good with the owner,” Jinsoo answers with a shrug. “Know him from church and he offered me this position.” Not quite a lie, though not necessarily the whole truth, either. Half-truths are a lot of his life nowadays, a simple way to modify his life in a way to make it seem completely different. “Plus he knows I’m fucking amazing with technology and shit, so why pay an outsider when he can pay me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, suck up,” Sejun mutters, rolling his eyes as he walks past him toward the front. It’s a sore subject between them since Sejun’s been working at the restaurant for almost two years and hasn’t advanced to anything past the register. Jinsoo, on the other hand, comes in off the street and handles the schedule, minor paperwork the manager was more than willing to hand off and any sort of troubleshooting needed.

That is, of course, only a front for what he _really_ does there, in the apartment above where a new hacking center has been installed for his use and his use only. Despite being separated from the physical embodiment of Magenta, Jinsoo is still in charge of security and trying to hack into the RFA’s servers. His actual work duties take him less than an hour per day that he comes in, and he spends most of the rest of the time upstairs doing his duties as a blessed disciple. The sudden change of being paid for his work caught him off guard, originally, until he realized that he needs the money to buy food and other essentials. Still, he has a lot of it squirreled away in a small safe because he has no idea what to do with the rest of it.

Pulling out the key ring he has specifically for this place, Jinsoo trudges up the stairs and unlocks the door. Not bothering to flip on the light, he tosses the keys on the desk and flops ungracefully in the chair in front of the monitors. A few clicks and passwords later, he’s checking over the code for Magenta. Nothing unusual there. He reboots the security, works a little at strengthening it. He can’t allow paradise to be invaded by the unworthy, after all.

Nothing new in the RFA chats, either. _He_ has been toying with his own security, trying to keep the hacker they’ve designated as “Unknown” from getting back in. Little does he know that he’s made a grave error by allowing Jinsoo access to app; now there’s no way to keep him out.

Letting the keyboard rest in his lap, Jinsoo puts his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his head, grinning maliciously at the screens in front of him. Soon, retribution would be coming for him. Soon retribution would be coming to them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as [cutiesaeran](http://cutiesaeran.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@MysticHawke](https://twitter.com/MysticHawke/)!


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